The first time that I recited this mantra I was standing on the side of the skiff in Antarctica about to plunge into the 32°F (0°C) water with ice chunks floating all around and snow falling onto my bare shoulders.

Since I have been in Norway, I recite this every time I leave the warm sauna and plunge into the cold fjord.

Now, as my flight back to the United States departs in a mere 48 hours, I can’t help but find comfort in this very mantra.

Because if I think about leaving my brain gets muddy and my chest heavy. I don’t want to leave but that does not matter because I have to. It is time to go.

I did not have expectations when I arrived in March. My goal was just to find out if the pull I felt from Norway last summer as I traveled around for five weeks in a camper van was real or imagined. Was I only experiencing a tourist daydream or was there something more for me here?

After only two weeks of living in Bergen, I knew that what I had experienced last summer was only a taste of Norway. What I was experiencing now felt more like the real thing and that was even better and it was also filled with people.

Last summer I traveled alone and was constantly on the move. I have learned that for me there is a fatal flaw in this style of travel and that is that almost all of my time was spent alone, investing in no one. The few investments that were made were fleeting, one evening in a campground or a few minutes while chatting on a hiking path. Then it was over.

The last three months have instead been largely focused on people. Language practices (språkkafen), coffee with those I connected with on Facebook friends groups, casual dates from Hinge, events, neighbors, neighborhood gatherings, every opportunity I could get my hands on I became like a leach feeding on the connection. And in this way, I became the best version of myself. I was confident, assured, excited, eager, ready for anything, and pleased with most things. I fed on this energy inside of myself. It was all I needed every day.

As a response, I looked to how I could make my life in Norway more permanent because in Norway I had also found a lifestyle that is a perfect fit for me. The natural beauty and the unlimited, easy access to it align with my outdoorsy side. The focus on health and time off, life over work is how I want to live. The expectation that you take care of your environment, and respect others by being conscientious of how large of a footprint you are leaving in the lives of those around you at all times, is important to me. Being in Norway felt like I had found a glove that fit. And I can confidently say that I did everything I could have in the past 90 days to make this place my home. But that has become impossible, for now.

What I have learned is that no one comes to Norway on a tourist visa and stays. The Americans that I have met in Norway spent years trying before their visas came through. And that is because the system is made not to work for non-EU residents, perhaps to weed out the 99.9%. For those with enough determination to make Norway their home, for those .01%, there is a narrow and obscure path and they have done the work to find it.

My 90 days became focused on finding my path to stay in Norway, and I searched far and wide. I explored jobs in the tourism industry and the advertising industry. I investigated student visa options, summer jobs, and ancestral links that could provide me with an EU passport. I conducted countless Zoom calls and coffee meet-ups. I told everyone I saw and knew that I was looking for a job. I searched every job board site in Norway and applied for many. I even got an interview! And I have spent much of my daily brain power learning Norwegian. But at the end of the day, all the doors to stay beyond May 30th have remained closed.

As I told my neighbor Tony while enjoying a cold drink on an unusually hot day in Bergen, I came to Norway to see what would happen and miraculously, nothing but positive did happen. And what a great gift. It could easily have been very different. Events could have transpired so differently that the end could instead feel like a great relief.

When I arrived, I knew that the only way I would feel okay about leaving was if I knew I did everything in my power to take advantage of this time. And I can confidently say I have done just that. To the extent that I have left everything on the table, so much so that writing this blog has become a chore. Thinking has become a chore. My brain is so tired, my thoughts are so scattered, my patience is so thin. I have poured myself out, and I have nothing left. The only thing that remains is the knowledge that I have gained from this experience, and that is that everything I need to create the life that I want already exists within myself.